


Reality

by Anonymouslazycat



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:25:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymouslazycat/pseuds/Anonymouslazycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a previous posting- before joining the Enterprise D- a certain Lieutenant decides to attend a party. </p><p>It does not go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reality

**Author's Note:**

> There is nowhere near enough Barclay fic out there. For that matter, there were nowhere near enough Barclay *episodes* in the series itself.

Reginald Barclay stood in front of a small mirror, nervously adjusting his shirt. He’d pull it this way, then that way, but no matter what it never seemed to fit right. He wished he could be wearing his uniform. It never fit right either, but neither did anyone else’s. So it didn’t matter if it looked good, because it looked the same on everyone. Civilian clothes also had the unfortunate side effect of saying something- _I’m too formal. I’m too casual. I’m sweating through this thin fabric because_ why _did I let myself be talked into this?_ The only message sent by a uniform was “I care about my job”. That was a good message, he thought. Except in this case, since John had told him that this was going to be _casual_ party, and aren’t-you-glad-we-don’t-have-to-wear-those-hideous-scratchy-uniforms?

 Sometimes he felt jealous of John. No, scratch that- _often_ he felt jealous of John. A case could even be made for _always._ John was confident, well-liked, and everything else that Reg wasn’t. At first, he had thought that John only talked to him out of pity for the stuttering Lieutenant who sat in the mess hall with only an engineering manual for company. Pity friendships were nice at the start, but in the end they were even worse than being alone. He had learned _that_ particular lesson in the Academy. More than once. Not very pleasantly. This time, though, it wasn’t like that. For some reason, John honestly liked him. Honestly thought he was good at his job. And, even though he didn’t share Reg’s interest in holoprograms, he honestly never scoffed at them. The most he did was to sometimes point out that Reg spent an awful lot of time in there, and maybe he should get out more because, while holodecks were nice and all, they couldn’t compete with the real world.

 Reg respectfully disagreed on that last point.

 Yes, spending too much time in the holodeck could be unhealthy. Could cause you serious problems, interfering with your personal relationships, even your career if you let things get too far. But the thing was, he already _had_ serious problems which interfered with his personal relationships and career. It was what kept drawing him to the holodeck in the first place. Replacing his old problems with new ones didn’t sound all that bad. At least it would be a change of pace.

 After deciding that his shirt was indeed a lost cause- mostly because if he didn’t, he’d probably be late- Reg picked up a PADD from his desk. It was full of things to say, bits of small talk that would make his seem charming and likable. He knew he’d never use them, but had gotten into the habit of drawing up these lists anyways. It was sort of enjoyable, writing down clever lines for himself, all the while imagining what would happen if he were to actually say them. Reading and rereading them, memorizing, rehearsing, on the off chance that maybe _this_ time it would work. After all, how hard could it be? Talking, that is. Even little children could do it. How hard could it be?

 This short-lived confidence lasted exactly as long as it took for him to reach the mess hall, where the party had been set up. As soon as he walked in, he wanted to leave. Maybe he still could. No one had noticed him yet, right?

“Hey, Reg! Glad you decided to join us!”

 It was John, of course. Who else would it be?

 “Come on.” John continued. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

 Reg tried to say something, to at least _pretend_ he was happy to be here, but his voice didn’t seem to be working right. So he just followed. Walking, at least, was something he knew how to do properly.

 “Shara, this is Reg. The engineer I was telling you about. Remember?” John said to an Andorian woman who was standing by one of the tables, holding an opaque glass of something fruity-smelling. She was very pretty, with creamy blue skin and short, white hair that was only a shade lighter than the flowy silver blouse she wore. Most likely, John was trying to set the two of them up. Most likely, it wouldn’t work.

 They shook hands. Reg’s was clammy with sweat. Quickly, he wiped his hand on his pants and hoped she hadn’t noticed. If she had, she was too polite to let on.

 “I’m just going to go get some food.” John said with a wink. “You two have fun.”

 That sealed it. He was _definitely_ trying to set them up. Shara looked a little uncomfortable, so she must have noticed it too. One of her antennae twitched slightly as she watched John saunter away. But she was still the first to talk.

 “So…John tells me you’re an engineer?”

 “I, er…yes. Yes.” At least they were words. He could work on the order later.

 “I thought about entering that field myself, once. My father always said I had a head for mechanics. But I’ve always preferred the sciences. My specialty is entomology.”

 “You study insects? Th-th-th…” Reg cringed internally. Now was a bad time for stammering. It was always a bad time for stammering. “Th-that sounds…interesting.”

 “Oh, it is. Some people think it sounds boring- and it’s certainly not as flashy as, say, command- but I’ve always found it rewarding.”

 Reg nodded, waiting for her to keep going. She didn’t. Then he considered saying something himself. He didn’t.

 It went on like this for what seemed like a very long time. Brief half-conversations, ending with awkward silence. Reg had completely forgotten the notes he had made. Everything he had practiced and planned to say seemed to have disappeared from his mind. Shara finished her drink, ice clinking against the edges of the empty cup.

 “I think I’ll go get some more. Would you like some?” she held up her glass.

 “N-no. No thank you. I’m fine,” Escaping this situation was probably best for both of them.

 “Suit yourself.” She shrugged, then left.

 Reg was left alone, in a corner. It was a relief, in a way. He had been wrong earlier when he thought that talking was easy. It wasn’t. Or maybe it was, for some people. For all the people he could see right now, chatting, laughing, being social, all with out their throat closing up or, as far as he could tell, feeling like their chest was being squeezed by an Aldeberan Anaconda.

  _What did they have that he didn't?_

 By this point, he was really wishing that he had never been invited to this party in the first place. Maybe, to someone like John, it sounded perfectly reasonable to say things like _hey, Reg, why don’t you get off the holodeck for a while? Why don’t you Spend some time with real people for a change?_ But Reg knew exactly why- or rather, why not. In there, he could be the same as the happy people he saw around him every day. He could be the sort of person he had always wanted to be. Out here? Not a chance.

 As Reg was thinking- and wishing- John came back over.

 “Shara left?” he asked.

 “She probably just had somewhere else to be.” _Or some other people to be with._

 “Ah, well.” John said, leaning against the wall. “Can’t win them all, can you?”

 "I guess not.”

 In his defense, John did at least make an attempt to stick around so that Reg didn’t have to be by himself. But every so often, his eyes would go sweeping around the room. Probably thinking about all the other, more interesting partygoers he could be spending time with.

 “You know, you can…you can go, if you want.” Reg said. “Be with your other friends. I’m fine here.”

 “You sure?” John asked. “I could introduce you to some of them, if you’d like.”

 “Oh, you d-don’t have to do that. Really.” Reg said quickly. Right now, being left by himself sounded much, much better than standing around trying to talk to people he didn’t know. Granted, neither option was very good, but this was the lesser of two evils. He’d had enough of the “real” world for now.

 Reg spent the rest of the party sitting at a small, single-seat table in a quiet corner of the room. No one approached him, and he approached no one. It was as if a thick, impassible sheet of one-way glass was surrounding him. He could see out, but no one could see in. And no one could get through it.

  _This was a bad idea_ he thought to himself, swallowing down the growing lump in his throat. _Definitely a bad idea._


End file.
